


Dead by Daylight One Shots

by dweetwise



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom David, Boys In Love, Casual Sex, Closeted Character, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone has a crush on Dwight, F/F, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Killer as Survivor, Language Barrier, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rating May Change, Rough Sex, Sassy Dwight, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25397863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dweetwise/pseuds/dweetwise
Summary: Shippy one shots and drabbles from my tumblr.Pairings and warnings (where applicable) will be in the chapter title.Mature/explicit content only for chapters 10 and 13, the rest are mostly just fluff!
Relationships: Anna | The Huntress/Kate Denson, Bill Overbeck/Ace Visconti, David King (Dead by Daylight)/Steve Harrington, David King/Evan MacMillan | The Trapper, David King/Jake Park, Dwight Fairfield/Ace Visconti, Dwight Fairfield/Jake Park, Dwight Fairfield/Quentin Smith, Felix Richter/Ace Visconti, Jake Park/Ace Visconti, Michael Myers/Jake Park, Steve Harrington/Dwight Fairfield, Steve Harrington/Quentin Smith
Comments: 12
Kudos: 201





	1. Dwight X Steve: Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> requests are currently closed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt of steve confessing to dwight

“— so, um, would you? Go out with me?”

Dwight couldn’t be more caught off guard by Steve’s confession. He had no idea the other was even into guys; he knows Steve and Nancy used to date, and he’s never seen the man pay any attention to the male survivors. On the contrary, he _has_ commented on Yui’s impressive leg muscles and teased Feng’s angry face as “cute” — _not_ that Dwight is hyper aware of everything Steve does, okay?

Oh, who is he kidding. He’s been crushing on Steve for ages because hello, the guy is adorable and super nice and funny, not to mention a great friend. He never thought he had a chance, since even if Steve _was_ miraculously into dudes, he’d probably never go for a geek like Dwight. But here he is, gaping like an idiot at Steve who claims to have feelings for him, and Dwight’s brain fizzles out and is reduced to a happy puddle of goo.

And then out of nowhere, the insecurity hits. Is Steve joking? Maybe it’s a shitty dare? Maybe —

“Look, I — did I do something wrong?” Steve interrupts his spiraling thoughts, and Dwight realizes he’s been zoning out for a good few minutes. “I’ve never done this before. With… with a guy,” Steve is starting to sound self-conscious, a frown on his handsome face. It eases a lot of Dwight’s own tension, realizing he’s not the only one who is nervous.

“No! You just took me by surprise, I, uh… never knew you felt that way,” Dwight says, looking at the ground to hide the dopey smile on his face. Steve sighs and Dwight realizes it sounds like he’s rejecting him. _Shit!_ “I mean I’ve been crushing on you pretty much since I met you!” he’s quick to confess, face heating up from baring his heart so carelessly. Judging by the way Steve’s face lights up, he decides it’s worth it and decides to push further. “Honestly, I just never thought I had a chance.”

“Ouch,” Steve says and fake cringes, a grin on his face. “Guess that means I suck at flirting.” Flirting? Steve had been _flirting_ with him? How oblivious had Dwight been?

“Sorry.” Dwight doesn’t know how to respond so he reverts back to apologizing, like he always does. Ugh, why is he so awkward!

“Nah man, I’m sorry for like… springing this on you,” Steve says, still smiling brightly and not seemingly bothered by Dwight continuing to embarrass himself. “I asked Meg and she told me to stop pining and just go for it, so. Here we are,” Steve says, giving a one-shoulder shrug.

“Typical Meg,” Dwight nervously jokes. An awkward silence follows where they just… stand way too close to each other and steal glances at the other, but neither makes a move. Steve is looking at him expectantly, scratching his neck self-consciously and Dwight _really_ wants to kiss him… huh. What’s stopping him?

“Can I kiss you?” Dwight blurts before he has a chance to regret the idea. Steve perks up immediately, a blush rising up on his cheeks.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s a little messy and awkward and Dwight’s hands keep shaking and he just hopes he doesn’t screw it up. But when Steve lovingly cups his cheek and his own hands card through incredibly soft hair, somehow it just feels _right_. He lets out an embarrassing moan as he melts into the kiss, and Steve chuckles against his lips before wrapping his arms around Dwight and pulling him closer.


	2. Dwight X Ace: Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> same confessions for dwight tumblr prompt, this time with ace

Dwight is no stranger to Ace’s flirty remarks and cheesy pet names that the gambler seems to give freely to everything that breathes. He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the attention from the charming man, not used to being complimented. Still, ~~no matter how much he wishes~~ it’s not like it means anything more to either of them than an ego boost or way to alleviate boredom, respectively.

Or that’s what Dwight always thought. It takes a borderline inappropriate move from Ace to get him to bring up the subject.

“I don’t mind the flirting, but can you stop _groping_ me?” Dwight snarks in annoyance, using a little more force than necessary to remove the hand sneaking up his thigh. So what if the intimacy had felt kind of nice and he’s blushing because of it; he still has _standards!_

“Sorry, Pumpkin!” Ace says with a smile, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I thought you were into it. My bad!”

A small voice in Dwight’s head screams ‘take me daddy’ and he promptly tells it to shut the fuck up. He refuses to be another notch on Ace’s bedpost.

“You’re wasting your time. I don’t do… _flings_ ,” Dwight spits, doing his best to come up with a non-vulgar word for what he imagines Ace wants from him.

He expects Ace to offer a good-natured chuckle and maybe pat him on the head patronizingly before leaving to find someone more receptive to his advances.

What he _doesn’t_ expect is Ace to pause and carefully scoot closer, mindful not to cross any more boundaries. His voice is a quiet murmur as not to alert the others when he leans in and says “I’d never do that to you, Dwight.”

Dwight isn’t used to seeing a sincere side of Ace and it makes his heart do a couple of stupid leaps in his chest.

“I get why you’d think I’m not serious about this, but I really do care about you. All I’m saying is, if you ever wanna give me a chance, I’ll be waiting.” Ace gives a soft smile following the confession — be still, his beating heart — before getting up and walking over to join Nea and some of the others in a card game. 

Dwight zones out a for a bit, having trouble wrapping his head around why the group’s resident Casanova would choose _him_ , out of all people. And what’s with the sudden gentle demeanor? Shit, did he _break_ Ace?

Later, when Ace looks up from his cards and his eyes meet Dwight’s, who is still staring at him with a amazed look on his face, the gambler perks up and apparently can’t resist shooting a cheeky wink Dwight’s way. Dwight snorts out a laugh; it’s good to know the other is still set on his flirty ways. There’s a smile creeping up on his lips and a warm feeling spreads through his chest; maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if he _did_ end up falling for the man.


	3. Dwight X Quentin: Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last of the confession prompts, i promise!

“I don’t need you to protect me!” Quentin shouts, angry at Dwight for having sacrificed himself to save Quentin in the previous trial. Dwight is trying really hard to take the argument seriously, but god, Quentin looks so cute when he’s this passionate about something.

“If I have the chance to save you — any of you, I will!” Dwight protests. “I can’t bear to leave anyone behind.” You; I can’t leave _you_ behind, he corrects quietly in his mind, finding it increasingly difficult to bury his crush on the sleepy man currently upset with him.

“That’s so selfish!” Quentin argues. “How do you think it feels for _me_ , having to watch, over and over as the guy I lo — oooathe,” Quentin stammers awkwardly, heat gone from his voice mid-sentence and replaced by shock at his own slip-up.

“… What?” Dwight manages. Did Quentin just…? The other swallows, turning away from him, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Fuck it, I like you,” Quentin mumbles, still not looking at him. “And I can’t stand to see you fucking die all the time. So just… don’t trade your life for mine, not that you would now anyway, since you’re probably so creeped out —” Quentin rambles on, voice is approaching hysterics. 

Dwight doesn’t even have time to process the confession because his every instinct is screaming to take care of Quentin before the other’s anxiety gets the better of him.

“Hey,” Dwight interrupts, firmly grasping the younger’s arm and causing Quentin to look up at him, wary but hopeful and — yep, still a little bit pissed off from their argument. Well, at least he’s not panicking anymore. “I didn’t know it upset you so much. Let’s work out something for the trials, yeah?”

Quentin’s hopeful smile fades and he nods without any enthusiasm. “Sure, dude,” he mutters and shrugs his arm free from Dwight’s grip.

“Don’t ‘dude’ me, I wasn’t finished,” Dwight snaps with unexpected sass that surprises them both, Quentin giving him a pointed ‘WTF’ face. “Why do you think I keep dying for you? I thought it was obvious I have…” Dwight starts out strong, when a sudden wave of insecurity hits; what if Quentin changed his mind? What if he never wanted to act on his feelings? What if he’ll make fun of him? “F-feelings for you,” Dwight finally manages, looking at the ground in shame as he stutters. _Shit_ , why does he have to mess everything up!? Now it just sounds like he assumes Quentin will want to —

“ _Mmpf!_ ” Dwight yelps in surprise when a chapped pair of lips smash against his own, Quentin practically throwing himself at Dwight. It takes him a couple of seconds to collect himself, before responding to the kiss and wrapping his arms around the other man. Quentin is doing his best to absolutely devour his mouth, inexperience shining through his desperate actions. Dwight feels a little bit better knowing the other isn’t perfect at this, either.

When Dwight reluctantly pulls away, his heart melts upon seeing Quentin look up at him with pure adoration in his eyes, tired face smoothed out as his features relax into a soft smile.

“I’m still mad at you,” Quentin chippers through the dopey smile and Dwight can’t help a small chuckle escaping his own lips. Even when kissed silly, of course the little shit will still snark at him. He leans back in to shut him up with another kiss; talking about the trials can wait, he has a boyfriend to make out with now.


	4. Steve X Quentin: Sleepy Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first kiss prompt for steve and quentin

“Quen,” Steve says, nudging his boyfriend. Said boyfriend is about to fall asleep on his shoulder, head gradually drooping lower until the side of his face is smushed into Steve’s collarbone.

“Mm?” Quentin slowly raises his head, blinking at Steve as he tries to wake up. “Oh. Sorry,” he says, leaning away and slapping his cheek lightly to try to rouse himself.

“Don’t be,” Steve insists, grabbing Quentin’s hand to prevent him from moving too far away. “I was gonna suggest you lay down properly, I can be your pillow,” he offers, patting his thighs.

Quentin blearily processes the request, before nodding with a muttered “thanks” and moving to lay down. Steve shuffles his legs into a better position, wanting the other to be as comfortable as possible.

“Love you,” Quentin mumbles and leans up to give Steve a sleepy peck. Steve only has time to blink in surprise before Quentin’s lips are gone and he’s lowering his head into Steve’s lap and cuddling into him.

When Quentin sighs happily and starts dozing off, a dumb grin spreads over Steve’s face and he gently cards his fingers through his adorable boyfriend’s hair. He hopes Quentin will remember the kiss when he wakes up, but even if he doesn’t, Steve is more than happy to remind him.


	5. Steve X David: Angry Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another first kiss prompt!

“The _fock_ ya do tha’ fer!?” David, predictably, is pissed at Steve for having interrupted his plan to sacrifice himself for the team.

“I was trying to protect you!” Steve protests.

“Yeah, an’ ya got us both killed! Lemme handle meself!”

“No way! You’re always dying for me, and I’m sick of it!”

“Tha’s my choice!”

“And trying to stop you is mine!”

“Bloody stubborn little shite—”

Steve doesn’t know what comes over him. Part of him just wants to shut David up by any means necessary. Another part of him is sick of hiding his feelings for the bull-headed Brit.

He’s never kissed a guy before, but here he is, grabbing fistfuls of David’s jacket, blood staining the fabric after the brutal trial, and mashing his lips against the other’s aggressively.

David is frozen under his touch and Steve expects to get punched. Hell, he probably deserves it.

He gasps in surprise as David, instead of throwing fists, groans and deepens the kiss. Steve’s heart is hammering in his chest, nervousness and excitement muddling together as David’s tongue tangles with his own and it’s all too much too fast. When a hand finds his ass and squeezes, Steve pulls away with an embarrassing squeak. He breathes a sigh of relief as David chuckles softly and his hands settle on his hips instead, being much more comfortable with the innocent touch.

“Didn’t know ye fancied me, luv,” David says with a satisfied smirk, but his eyes are soft and his demeanor is calm. Huh, he’s never seen David’s temper cool that quick. Who knew kisses were the key to defusing the brawler?

“I’m, uh, sorry for like, jumping you—” Steve feels the need to apologize, but David interrupts him with a chuckle and shakes his head.

“Handsome lad like you can snog me anytime,” David murmurs, hands on Steve’s hips squeezing affectionately and face settling into a fond smile. Steve feels butterflies flutter in his stomach as he leans in for another kiss.


	6. Steve X Dwight: Happy Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last of the first kiss prompts!

“That was amazing! _You_ were amazing!” Steve is smiling brightly, beaming at his boyfriend.

“How did that work? We should both be dead!” Dwight has an equally big smile on his face, even while still shaking from the adrenaline.

“It’s because you’re amazing.” Steve sounds like a broken record at this point but he doesn’t care. All his brain capacity is reserved for thinking about how his Dwight is the bravest, most selfless soul he’s ever met and seeing him this happy makes Steve’s heart soar.

“What about you?” Dwight insists. “That was the most perfectly timed styptic I’ve ever seen!”

Steve thought his own grin couldn’t get any wider, but he feels the corners of his mouth rise even higher from the praise.

“How did you even know to—? I can’t, you’re just—!” Dwight seems to get gradually more excited until he can no longer find the words, opting instead to grab Steve by the collar of his Scoops uniform and smash their mouths together.

Steve responds with matching enthusiasm, arms wrapping firmly around Dwight to pull him closer as their lips move eagerly against each other.

“S-sorry,” Dwight stammers when they finally pull apart for air. “I should have asked—”

“Never apologize. You’re my hero and I love you,” Steve says sappily, heart clenching from the surge of affection, and leans in for one last peck on Dwight’s blushing face.


	7. Dwight X Jake: Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is part of a dwake prompt i wrote for tumblr. it was originally just bullet points so if it feels a little janky that's why. i just wanted to contribute something to my otp <3

At this point, Dwight and Jake have been friends for what feels like years—it’s hard to tell in the fog. Dwight likes to think he’s on good terms with everyone, veteran and new survivors alike. Jake on the other hand is pretty antisocial and only really opens up to him as well as Meg and Claudette, the three having been with him through thick and thin for the longest. It might just be Dwight’s imagination, but it seems like Jake seeks out his company the most, and it never fails to make him feel special.

Dwight psyches himself up for weeks—months?—to make the first move. He’s always had a small crush on Jake, but when Jake suddenly starts inviting him to hang out in the woods one-on-one (”the campfire is getting too cramped”, Jake explains with a frown), the feelings grow into something more. Dwight is nervous as all hell but feels like he needs to come clean to Jake, trying to reason to himself that when he inevitably gets rejected he might finally be able to move on from the crush and focus on being a friend.

Dwight really hopes Jake won’t judge him for having feelings for him, since the other is usually so chill and seems unperturbed by any drama at the campfire. He manages to confess, voice shaky and not able to make eye contact, but he gets the message through. Dwight has already steeled himself for rejection, even though a small part of him can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, Jake could feel the same way.

What he sure as hell would _never_ have expected is Jake to blink a couple of times and tilt his head, uttering a confused “I thought we were already dating?”.

And just like that, Dwight is the one who is confused. He gapes a little bit, and he’s definitely blushing, stammering out a “W- _what!?_ ”.

“I mean. I’ve been flirting with you for—weeks, probably?—and you went along with it, and always came out here with me, so I thought… I didn’t know I had to, like, ask.”

When Jake leans in to kiss the stunned expression off his face right after the confession, Dwight realizes that Jake just has a _very_ different way of expressing his emotions.

* * *

So now, they’re apparently dating _for real_. Dwight can’t keep the dumb grin off his face, and the others definitely notice something is up, but don’t pry. Dwight wants to tell everyone _so_ badly, but Jake is a very private person and probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Maybe in the future, when— _if_ , Dwight corrects himself—they’re officially an item.

Keeping his expectations low fails spectacularly, as Dwight falls hard and fast and once again, he gathers his courage for another confession. He feels like he needs to be honest with Jake, in case the other sees this as just a fling.

“I… I’m not sure if this is too soon, but… I-I think I love you. Will you be my boyfriend?” Dwight manages through his nervousness.

Jake pauses. “I’ve been in love with you for _years_ ,” Jake confesses, and God, how can he just _say that_ without any trace of embarrassment? “And I… might have already told everyone that you’re my boyfriend after our first kiss,” Jake adds with a sheepish grin. Dwight can’t help the giddy laugh; his boyfriend is so silly. His _boyfriend_. The thought makes his heart soar.


	8. Felix X Ace: Unlikely reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for a request of felix and ace having met before the fog!

Felix wasn’t exactly prepared for the fog to transport him into another dimension. He'd read some theories, sure, and he'd seen his father disappear into thin air all those years ago, but to experience it first-hand was another thing entirely.

He also didn't expect the world in question to be controlled by an eldritch being that forced its captured victims into a gruesome game of hide and seek, killing and resurrecting him and others at will.

But he sure as hell didn't expect to come face to face with the biggest mistake of his life.

It takes Felix a minute to recognize the man, the small camp having so many new faces and names to memorize and they’re all speaking over each other—it's a lot to take in. But then he spots a familiar face, and everything the ginger woman is trying to explain to him becomes white noise as the man he focuses on laughs at something a boy in a beanie says.

Felix’s thoughts drift back to what feels like a lifetime ago, when he was on a business trip in Austria, staying at a luxurious casino. 

Him and a couple of other junior architects were invited to design an expansion to the building, and the best idea would be hired. Felix hated competition, he hated having to work on the field, and he hated the lavish, over-the-top style of the casino. But he was only starting to get his name out there, and couldn't afford to turn down any opportunities—if he played his cards right, this could be his stepping stone into more high-profile projects. Maybe he'd get to design an entire casino next time, without the twenty fake fountains and fuck-awful gold trims.

They were waited on like VIP:s while attending meetings in lavish conference rooms and bullshit marketing presentations about the brand. It was basically an all-inclusive stay, but Felix still despised it. He would have given anything to skip the unnecessary pleasantries and stay at home to draw the designs in peace.

He hated it right up until one of the waiters serving their mid-presentation coffees caught him suppressing a yawn and gave him a cheeky wink and a smirk. Felix had blinked, thinking he imagined it, but the more he kept staring, the more the waiter's smile seemed to widen.

Felix wasn't gay, but being an architect, he could appreciate aesthetically pleasing things in life. Like the waiter's symmetrical face, high cheekbones and good hairline. And eyes that sparkled with mischief even while he was outwardly completely professional.

And the way his work pants clung to his perky ass.

The waiter was suddenly a hundred times more interesting to him than the entire project. The project was predictable, and Felix once again found himself drawn to the unknown.

It wasn't a challenge to get the man's attention. He only had to linger behind after a dinner, and soon enough, there was a gloved hand brushing fleetingly against his neck as the man collected his plate. With the rest of the group having moved on, and Felix having had more than a few drinks, he'd asked if there was any possibility for room service. He was rewarded a lopsided grin and warm eyes shimmering with promise.

He always was much smoother when drunk off his ass.

He doesn't even remember what he'd designed by the end of his five-day-stay in the casino. He only remembers fucking the cute waiter against the tacky gold-trimmed headboard of the king-sized bed in his suite. And in the hot tub. And in a supply closet. It was a long week, okay?

His companion was named Luca. He'd only been working in the casino for a few months and was thinking of moving back to Italy, not being a fan of gambling or the over-the-top establishment. He had a charming accent and only spoke a couple of words of German, forcing Felix to use his own shaky English.

It was a shallow thing. Felix tried to keep his personal life private, and he definitely left out the part where he had a girlfriend back home. He'd ended up exaggerating his professional success, but wasn’t that what people did? He was just trying to make a good impression, 

After the week, Felix never talked to the other man again. He got home, unpacked his bags, and freaked out. He didn't even want to think about how unprofessional he'd been and how risky it was.

And definitely not about how much he'd enjoyed it.

The more he tried suppressing the thoughts, the more insistent they got. His brain was periodically invaded by images of warm brown eyes, expressive lips twisting into a hundred different smiles, and a laugh resonating in his ear, rich like his favorite double-roast coffee. The memories had haunted him for close to a decade, and he thought he'd finally gotten past them, ready to be a good father that had his shit together.

But here he is, seeing the same brown eyes light up with the same carefree smile and the sound of the same damn laugh echoing through the air and all the memories come flooding back.

The woman next to him hollers something to the group, and the familiar face looks his way. Even with the now grey hair and added wrinkles, Felix still finds himself just as transfixed as he'd been ten years ago.

He's introduced to the group, but he only really remembers one name and the overwhelming sense of wrongness that follows it; _Ace_. The revelation isn’t made any easier when he notices there isn't even a flicker of recognition in the eyes he remembers so fondly.

In the following couple of trials, Felix is only disappointed further. “Ace” doesn’t have an Italian accent anymore, in fact Felix catches him instead saying something in Spanish to the woman in a blazer. He’s also very keen on gambling, and the shiny satin smoker jacket he wears in one trial could have been straight from the tacky casino they met in. Was anything he told Felix about himself true?

It takes him a while to confront the man, debating back and forth inside his head. All of his focus should be on finding his father, and he needs to keep these people at arm’s length. Ace not remembering him is the best possible outcome of their brief past together, he tries to rationalize.

But in the end, curiosity wins over rationality, and when the opportunity presents itself, Felix is unable to resist.

“You really don't remember me, do you?” Felix asks, alone in the camp until Ace returns from a trial. The man pauses, eyebrows pinching together in confusion

“I didn't leave you to die on hook, did I?” Ace asks. “That happens sometimes.”

“No, I mean back in the other world,” Felix explains.

“We've… met?” Ace asks.

_Well_. If that's what you want to call it.

“Yes,” Felix simply says and immediately, Ace cringes.

“I'm sorry?” he offers.

“Excuse me?”

“I can count on one hand the people I've encountered who remember me fondly. There's a 99% chance you hate my guts, so I figured I'd get it over with quickly," Ace explains, seeming a little wary.

“I don't hate you, I just can't believe you'd forget and… lie.”

“Oh, I… I do that. Did—whatever. Nothing personal,” Ace shrugs. “I really don’t remember you, sorry.”

“Casino in Vienna. 2009. I stayed at the hotel for a week. You were a waiter. You said your name was Luca. We—” Felix hesitates. “…' _met_ '.” 

Multiple times on multiple surfaces.

“Vienna, huh? Hmm... Oh!” Ace's face suddenly lights up. “You were one of the suits, right? Some kind of… lawyer?”

"Architect,” Felix corrects, a little miffed.

“Same deal,” Ace dismisses with a wave of his hand. “So, are you still neck-deep in the closet?”

“What?” Felix recoils. “That's—I'm not _gay_. It was a one-time-thing.”

“That would be a yes,” Ace muses, almost as to himself.

“So you _do_ remember? All of it?” Felix prods.

“Guess so. What, you want a repeat performance?” Ace asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No! I just…” Felix falters. 

‘Wanted to make sure you didn't forget me because I’ve been thinking about you for the past ten years’? No way he’s admitting to any of that, so he puts on his business face.

“Wanted to come clean. So we're on the same page. To avoid any awkwardness,” Felix says instead, and it’s definitely not as smooth as he would have liked.

“Right…” Ace says, regarding him skeptically.

There's a few seconds of extremely awkward silence while Ace just stares at him and Felix looks into the fire, trying to keep his face neutral and not sweat bullets. Eventually Ace sighs.

“Look, can I give you some friendly advice?” he asks.

“I… I guess so," Felix says, a little confused.

“Drop the act,” Ace says, looking him dead in the eye. “The manly man, excited father, respectable lawyer—”

“ _Architect_ ,” Felix, again, corrects in annoyance. “—suit guy thing, whatever. It's not going to serve you any purpose in here. These people see right through any bullshit, trust me on that one,” Ace adds with a knowing smile that Felix has never seen before.

He doesn't have any time to think of a reply before they're interrupted, the girl with a beanie cussing up a storm while a young guy in a sailor uniform sits down in front of Ace expectantly and the man cracks a joke and immediately starts tending to the bloody gash in the kid's shoulder.

The wound is bleeding heavily but the duo keeps chatting without a care in the world. Felix remembers he got a gauze roll from the… blood web?—and he rifles through his meager belongings before approaching the two.

“You… um,” Felix stammers, holding out the item to Ace. “Would this help?”

“Cool!" the teen chirps while Ace takes the offered item silently, regarding Felix with an unreadable expression. "Thanks—uhh, what was your name again?" the kid grins sheepishly.

“Felix,” he says. “And… yours?” he asks, swallowing his pride and now hesitantly curious to learn more about his companions.

“I'm Steve! This is Ace, and the moping bitch over there is Nea!” Steve exclaims with a bright smile that shows his bloodied teeth.

“Dude, fuck off!" the girl, Nea, calls out before leveling her gaze on Felix. “Hey Felix, anyone teach you how to use a flashlight yet?"

“No, not really," Felix confesses, cautiously approaching the girl. “I understand the need for tools and medical supplies, but… what would you use a torch for?”

* * *

“So how's the new guy holding up?” Steve asks, making Ace look over to where Felix is sitting with Nea.

“Allvarligt, förstår du mig inte?” Nea has apparently moved on from flashlight training to Swedish lessons.

“For the last time, your Swedish sounds like gibberish to me," Felix explains. "Just because the languages are related—"

“Sheiße,” Nea interrupts with a grin, moving to swear in German.

“A multilingual genius, I see,” Felix deadpans.

“He's learning,” Ace says, hiding his own hopeful smile behind the fluffy hair of the boy he's patching up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nea's line is "seriously, you can't understand me?"


	9. Ace X Bill: Encouragement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a vent fic i wrote after a series of terrible games. have some cute grandpas

It’s been a long time since Ace walked back to the campfire with a tired slouch. Usually, he can keep his spirits high, no matter what kind of bullshit the Entity throws their way in trials, even going as far as to cheer up others that happen to be sacrificed at the same time as him.

The killers are brutal murder machines that will do anything in their power to kill them; hence the name. Ace was much quicker than some of the others to accept that fact, and he usually expects no mercy. The few times he _does_ end up escaping and the numerous occasions where he makes good play are enough to keep the cheeky smile on his face at all times.

But it’s not the pain of being stabbed by a sharp blade or rusty hook that cuts deep; it’s the betrayal.

They knew right from the start it was going to be a difficult match, seeing the flames flickering over the killer’s Mori. Not even ten seconds into the trial, Ace heard Kate scream, followed by Dwight. He’d made his way over but Dwight got downed before he had time to get the killer’s attention, and the boy had been hoisted up on the Trapper’s shoulder and carried to a hook.

He found Kate and went to patch up her wounds, ready to coordinate a save for Dwight. Ace had brought Borrowed Time into the trial, and with both him and Kate they were bound to get Dwight safely out of the killer’s clutches and avoid the mori being used right away. Courtesy of Kindred, Ace could make out the Trapper’s aura lingering near the hook, as well as Meg’s on the complete opposite side of the map, looking to be working on a generator.

And then, the Trapper abandoned the hook and made a beeline towards him and Kate.

“Run!” Ace exclaimed, pushing Kate behind him in the direction of the bus. Kate vaulted the window and the killer was about to cut her off, but Ace shoved himself in the killer’s way, taking the swing meant for her and gritting his teeth against the pain. Kate made distance towards the corner of the map and Ace bolted into the center of the map, and the Trapper chose to follow him.

Ace had to make a split-second decision. He could run past Dwight’s hook towards the shack and hope that one of the girls in opposite corners of the map would manage to save Dwight in time before the Entity’s claws descended, or he could unhook him in front of the killer’s face and take his place on the hook.

Having made up his mind, Ace grabbed Dwight and felt a machete in his back mere seconds after Dwight’s feet hit the ground safely. Dwight took off towards the shack, not once looking back while the Trapper hoisted Ace up on the hook, content with letting the boy go or maybe anticipating the borrowed time save.

Ace screamed as the familiar rusty metal pierced his shoulder, but he managed to smile despite the pain. Dwight had successfully escaped and wouldn’t suffer the mori this early in the match. He could easily find Meg with Kindred for some healing—

Ace’s smile faltered when he heard Dwight scream and saw his aura hit the ground. Kate and Meg were both already working their way towards Ace, but Dwight’s fate was now sealed.

The girls started healing him under hook, and they should have had more than enough time to patch him up before the Trapper was done with Dwight.

But instead, the trio saw Dwight’s aura get picked up before the killer grunted in pain, having been stabbed in the shoulder by the man. Ace smirked; he didn’t know why the Trapper had decided to hook instead of mori, but at least they were still all alive and Dwight got a second chance.

And then the smile died on his lips as he saw Dwight running directly to him and the girls, his eyes meeting Ace’s for a split second. _Shit_ , why was Dwight leading the Trapper here? The heartbeat kept getting louder, but his wounds were _so_ close to being patched up, they’d have just enough time and then he could take a hit for the still injured Kate—

Kate stabbed the needle into his wound, making him cry out in pain, before pushing her way through him and Meg to save herself. The Trapper had abandoned Dwight upon spotting a more outpositioned target and was just about to round the corner to strike him down.

“Damnit—” Ace panicked, trying to dart after Kate, ready for Meg to step between him and the killer and take a hit for him, like all of them had done for each other countless times before.

Instead, she stayed put, effectively blocking him. For a split second, Ace looked up at her face, covered by the white mask she was so fond of. The girl he’d started considering as the daughter he never had stood unmoving and watched the Trapper strike him down without a word. He felt her gaze on him even when his face hit the mud, and only when the Trapper looked up did she sprint away.

Ace laid in the mud, clutching the broken piece of glass and hoping against hope that maybe the killer would take a free hit on Meg or pick him up like he’d done with Dwight.

And then the killer’s heavy boot was on his back, crushing him against the ground while the machete slashed against his spine. When he finally blacked out from the assault, all he could feel was betrayal.

The familiar orange glow of the campfire does nothing to lift his spirits, and neither does David’s insensitive “Got yer arse kicked, eh?” for being back so soon. He doesn’t even look up when Claudette, concerned, asks him “Is everything alright, Ace?”. He can’t bear to look at her and remember all the times she’s left him to die on hook, too scared to take a risk and put herself in harm’s way. Ace has never once blamed her, being sacrificed with a smile on his face, but now? His mindset is starting to shift.

He remembers the skeptical looks from when he first found the survivor campfire upon arriving in the realm. They were all much younger than him and were hesitant to allow him into the group, Nea and Meg sparing no one’s feelings at calling him out as a greasy old man. He always assumed he’d since earned his place, lifting the others’ spirits and happily going along with Dwight’s teamwork ideals in trials, and it hadn’t taken long for them to warm up to him.

But maybe that was all just an act?

“Leave him alone,” Ace hears Laurie hiss and looks up just enough to see her grabbing an annoyed Bill’s arm. Bill shrugs off the girl’s hand, grumbling something Ace can’t quite make out. And then Bill is stomping over to him and hoisting him up, a hand hooking below his armpit.

“We’re going for a walk,” Bill grunts and glares at Ace as if daring him to protest. Ace lets himself be dragged into the woods, some of his pained thoughts being replaced by confusion.

“Well? The fuck is wrong with you?” Bill demands, his confrontational attitude doing nothing to help Ace’s feeling of being unwelcome in the group.

“Just a bad day,” Ace lies.

“Sorry, but you can’t have bad days,” Bill grumbles.

“Oh give me a break—" Ace snaps, but Bill interrupts him.

“You’re the glue holdin’ this shitshow together,” the veteran says, taking Ace completely off guard. Bill is… complimenting him? What the fuck?

“I don’t care what it takes—you need to scream? Punch somethin’? Bawl your eyes out? Get it out of your system, and then put on that shitty smile and go back and make everyone stop worryin’. Up an’ at em, soldier,” Bill finishes, looking at him with determination on his features.

“Yeah? Well they sure have a weird way of showing appreciation for someone so ‘integral to the group’,” Ace argues, and shit, he might have said too much. Bill pauses, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“The fuck you on about?” the veteran finally grunts.

“Nothing,” Ace says quickly. _Too quickly_ , he realizes.

“...How bad was it?” Bill prods, seeing right through his bullshit.

“How bad was what?” Ace resorts to playing dumb.

“The trial, smartass,” Bill grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Stop deflecting.”

Ace hesitates, but eventually just spills the beans. It helps a little to get the anger out, telling Bill about how Dwight knowingly used him as bait after Ace had just saved his ass, about Kate abandoning him at the last second to save herself, and about Meg just calmly watching him die.

“Fuck,” Bill sighs sympathetically after his outburst.

“And you know what? Fuck teamwork. Maybe I’ll just loot chests in trials from now on,” Ace keeps going, fueled by his little rant and gesturing angrily with his hands. “I almost always find a key. You know that, right? I could probably escape every time, if I put my mind to it.”

“There’s enough selfish pricks out there to last a lifetime,” Bill protests angrily, and then seems to sober up a little, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re better than that.”

“The hundreds of people I’ve scammed probably wouldn’t agree,” Ace shoots back.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bill persists, hand squeezing. “Nothin’ that you did before matters. It’s only in a life or death situation that you really see someone’s true colors.”

Ace huffs, but doesn’t protest further. Maybe Bill has a point. He’s already starting to calm down, not nearly as upset as before.

“And yours is a fuckin’ rainbow,” Bill adds, the corner of his mouth quirking up, and Ace can’t help out the hearty laugh escaping his mouth. “Don’t give up, Ace. We need you.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. You sure you’re not just trying to get into my pants?” Ace smirks, throwing in a flirty wink for good measure.

Bill rolls his eyes and the comforting hand on his shoulder proceeds to smack him square in the chest.

“We should get back before Laurie thinks we started throwin’ fists,” Bill says, turning around and flicking the butt of his cigarette to the ground. For a split second, Ace thinks he sees something.

“Are you _blushing?_ ” Ace teases, stepping in front of Bill to try to get a closer look at his face. Bill, in retaliation, blushes even more and pushes him away, trying to keep him at arm's length.

“Next time I’m leavin’ you to pout by yourself,” Bill grumbles in annoyance.

Ace keeps pestering Bill all the way back to the campfire, with the veteran begrudgingly playing along with his banter. Several curious gazes shoot his way when they get back to the fire, and Ace notices Laurie sigh in relief and Claudette smile approvingly upon seeing him back to his usual self. Even David offers him an apologetic look, and Bill gives his arm one last encouraging squeeze before going back to his usual spot next to Laurie.

Ace takes a seat and hides a grateful smile under the brim of his cap. At least he knows he still has people looking out for him.


	10. Jake X Michael (NSFW): Helping Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jayers request from tumblr. i'm not a fan of the usual dynamic of the ship so i tried something different ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

There are no words to describe how much of a colossally bad idea this is.

It’s not like Jake has ever been much of a prude, his views on sex more relaxed than most people’s. But even he knows this is fucked up, and he should put a stop to it. The thing is, he doesn’t want to.

The Shape moves his hand faster over Jake's dick and Jake bites down on his scarf to stifle a moan.

He's sprawled out on one of the worn couches in a suburban house in Springwood, the lights flickering in the room because he failed to complete the generator in the basement before his teammates were brutally murdered.

The Shape is looming over him, leaning against the backrest of the sofa and trapping Jake between his massive body and the furniture. Jake doesn't mind.

The killer has a hand on his leaking cock and the empty stare of his mask is fixated on the sight of his hand playing with the hard flesh. The heavy breathing from behind the mask is a calming sound compared to the blood rushing in Jake's ears and his own heart pumping frantically.

This isn't the first time they've done this, and Jake knows it won't be the last. 

For some reason, the killer had, at some point, taken a liking to him. During what Jake thought was a normal trial on Haddonfield, he'd been the only one left, and the Shape had found Jake before he found the hatch. Feeling optimistic, Jake hadn't struggled when being downed and slung over the killer's shoulder, hopeful that maybe the killer would show mercy and take him to the trap door since Jake had done well in the trial and wasn't even hooked once.

Instead, he'd been tossed down on one of the moth-eaten mattresses in what Laurie called the Myers house. The killer's hand was brushing against his soft dick through his cargos before he could even properly take in the situation.

Fear had washed over Jake's entire body; none of the killers had ever touched any of them like this before, and Jake didn't even know the Entity allowed them to.

Sensing his reluctance, the killer had thankfully withdrawn his hand, though the burning stare of his mask never left Jake's face. The killer even moved ever so slightly to the side, highlighting the doorway behind him that Jake could easily slip out of if he wanted. The Shape had tilted his head, waiting for Jake's move.

Feeling way more in control now that he knew he had a choice, Jake's dick started picking up interest as he imagined it getting touched by hands that weren't his own, for once. And fuck it, he wasn't about to turn down a free handjob.

He'd thought it would be a one-time-thing, but then it happened again. And again. And—

Jake grunts as a callused thumb slides over his slit. It's rough and fast and just the way he likes it, and it’s a little concerning that they’ve done this so many times the killer has learned what he’s into. Jake looks at the mountain of a man towering above him and tries to stave off his impending orgasm, taking in the sigh of broad shoulders and hard muscle under the overalls.

The killer, like always, is flaccid inside his clothes. The first time, Jake had gone to grab his junk after he’d finished, figuring it was only polite to return the favor. When his hand was grabbed and the sharp blade of the killer’s weapon was suddenly back in his hand and threateningly placed against his chest, Jake realized he didn't want the gesture reciprocated.

He's not sure what the killer gets out of this and frankly, he doesn't really care. If Jake can secure a guaranteed hatch escape _and_ a handjob each time he faces the killer, with literally no downsides, he's more than on board.

The only reaction Jake remembers getting out of the Shape is a head tilt when he came the first time. He's still not sure if the gesture was one of mockery or confusion, but who cares? He got off.

And he's definitely getting off this time too, whimpering into the scarf as the killer's hand closes into a tight fist over his tip and his pace picks up. It doesn't take long until he tenses and pulses in the Shape's hand, shooting his load onto his trail jacket and over the killer's hand.

“Fuck,” Jake gasps, slumping down into the moldy fabric of the couch while the aftershocks pulsate through his body.

The killer, as always, moves a short distance away and just stares at him. The first few times, it was unnerving, but now it's just another thing to add to the growing pile of questions Jake knows will never be answered. By this point, he knows he can take his time recovering from the high and the killer will still wait for him, doing nothing but stand there and look at him.

Jake eventually tucks his junk back into his boxers and zips his pants, having zoned out in post-orgasmic bliss for long enough. The killer gets to his feet mere seconds before he does, and Jake follows him to look for the hatch.

He doesn't know why the Shape wants to walk him out, so to speak, every time. It's not like they ever talk, or kiss, or even touch. Jake, like usual, gives a curt nod, and Michael’s unwavering stare follows him as he jumps into the hatch.


	11. Jake X Ace: Trial Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on a match i had where a random ace was being cute. it's kind of a long one so bear with me!

Jake stares at the pre-trial campfire, bored out of his mind, trying to choose between burning an escape cake or anniversary cake. The other two are waiting impatiently for a fourth survivor to join, Nea's sneaker restlessly tapping against the ground.

“Finally,” Bill grumbles and Jake lifts his head and sees… _oh no_.

“Hey team! Good luck!” Ace cheers, a charming grin on his face as he quickly grabs a med-kit before they begin fading into a trial.

Jake's heart starts beating faster and he slaps on the ghastly gateau and quickly replaces Iron Will with Borrowed Time, forgoing his usual selfish ways for something that will benefit Ace—err, the team.

Jake spawns into the trial on Haddonfield and tries to quell his disappointment upon noticing he’s alone. He sees a totem and decides he might as well cleanse it since he's running one of Nancy’s perk that will allow for a quick heal later.

Not even five seconds after the bones from the totem clatter to the ground, Jake hears a monstrous screech from somewhere on the other side of the street. Looks like the killer already found someone—shit, please don't let it be Ace. 

Jake sprints into the nearest house and gets to work on the generator upstairs, much more motivated to make himself useful after knowing the killer is in a chase. Bill joins him, walking up the stairs cautiously.

“Looks like we're facing the Nurse, son,” the veteran grumbles.

“It sounded like the Demogorgon to me,” Jake counters. He's sure it's a Demo, the old geezer should really get his ears checked.

“I heard the screech. It's a nurse,” Bill argues.

“Whatever,” Jake says, not wanting to start an argument.

There's another screech, then a squeal as the creature gets stunned. Bill frowns.

“Never mind, Demogorgon it is,” Bill grumbles. Jake doesn't take any comfort in being right, worry spreading through him as with Bill here, there's a 50/50 chance that Ace is the one being chased.

They finish the generator and Jake takes off in a sprint towards the middle of the map, Bill grumbling something about being careful.

Jake hears the heartbeat get louder. He rounds a corner, and comes face to face—maw?—with the killer.

“AAGH!” Jake screams from the pain of the killer's sharp claws connecting with his shoulder, taking off into a corner of the map away from any generators.

He manages to run the killer on the fences long enough for another gen to pop, but then he's hit through a window with the killer's charge attack and hoisted up on a hook.

He sees the auras of his teammates: Bill is on a generator, Nea is searching a chest, and Ace is cleansing a totem. His heart drops a little; nobody is making a move to come get him. After a moment, Bill abandons the generator and starts sprint bursting towards him, probably running his usual perks of Kindred and Borrowed Time. Unfortunately, Bill doesn't even get halfway before he apparently runs into the killer, his pained scream echoing through the trial as he starts running the opposite way with a slight limp.

The sound makes Nea and Ace perk up, and they both start making their way to the hook. Nea pauses, nearing where Bill is getting chased, apparently spooked by the terror radius. Luckily Ace doesn’t hesitate, making a beeline to Jake's hook even as the heartbeat gets louder and Jake's Spine Chill goes off.

“In a pickle, huh?” Ace grins.

“Please have Borrowed Time,” Jake grumbles.

He's pulled off the hook and feels the endurance from the perk kick in just before the killer rounds the corner and is right by them.

“Over here, you overgrown fetus!” Ace taunts, running to a pallet between Jake and the killer.

The Demogorgon looks Ace's way, and all sense of self-preservation leaves Jake as he runs right at the killer, taking the hit meant for Ace. He screams at the sharp pain, but he's still on his feet and makes good distance from the adrenaline. He senses the killer looking in his direction, a chill running up his spine, before he hears the shriek of the creature being pallet stunned followed by some Spanish expletives. Jake stops to mend his wounds while Ace takes the chase, before going into a nearby locker to heal.

Before he's even fully healed inside the relative safety of the rickety doors, Ace is up on the same hook as he was before, having been forced to loop a bad area because of Jake's dumb mistake.

Jake doesn't even realize another generator is popping when he stumbles out of the locker, running straight at the hook. He gets a familiar uncanny feeling in the back of his mind, signaling the obsession, Bill, is being chased.

He reaches the hook and there's thankfully still no heartbeat.

“My angel,” Ace grins through the pain as Jake pulls him off of the hook. Jake's breath hitches at the compliment, before he remembers he's wearing the anniversary halo. He tries not to let disappointment show on his face, but then Ace is disappointing him further by walking away.

“Let me heal you,” Jake whispers. “Ace!” he hisses. His Spine Chill isn't even flickering on, and Bill is still being chased. Ace looks over his shoulder and grins, not slowing down, so Jake sighs dejectedly and follows the infuriating man.

Ace stops at the end of the street behind some obstacles to let Jake heal him. Jake still doesn't agree to this plan; sure, it's not in the open like the hook, but it’s closer to where Bill is running the killer. They spot Bill making his way to one of the nearby houses with the killer hot on his heels, and Ace tenses under Jake's touch. Jake pauses and positions himself on the other side of Ace, ready to take a hit (or ten) for the man if the killer somehow hears them healing.

When Ace is successfully patched up, Jake tilts his head back in the direction of the hook and unstarted generator next to it. Ace sighs and nods, obediently following behind him.

And then he stops to cleanse a dull totem.

“Ace,” Jake hisses, but the man pretends not to hear. Jake rolls his eyes and gets to work on the objective alone.

Bill eventually gets hooked and Jake is next, the killer bee-lining to his generator and managing to miss Ace completely because of him ducking down after cleansing the totem. What a lucky son of a bitch, Jake smirks fondly even while struggling against the Entity’s claws on a hook.

This time, both Nea and Ace are running to him as Bill finishes the second to last gen, and Nea beats the gambler to the hook while the heartbeat gets louder and Jake’s spine is chillier than a fucking snow storm. Ace stops in his tracks to give Nea a pointed stare, an eyebrow quirking up.

“I have We'll Make It!” the tag artist protests.

“I have BT,” Ace counters, looking around for where the killer is coming, ready to take a hit.

“Move your asses!” Jake exclaims, pushing through the pair and into the house to find a locker to heal or use Decisive if the killer goes for him.

Nea ends up taking a hit, Jake can hear her scream behind him and he runs to the second story of the house. Shit, there's no lockers upstairs! He hears Nea's cries of pain and the heartbeat is incredibly loud as she runs through the house and starts looping the car in front of it. Jake camps the upstairs window for a while, but when the killer isn't leaving Nea, he decides he needs to GTFO and leave the house to her. He walks out onto the roof of the house and drops down in the back yard—

—And proceeds to land less than a foot from Ace, hiding in the bushes, his arm bumping against the other's back during his fall.

“Holy shit!”

“Fuck!”

“You scared the shit out of me!” Ace says, a hand on his chest.

Nea goes down in front of the house and Jake makes his way to a locker he spots right inside the doorway.

“Jake? What are you—” Ace starts, hovering in the doorway before ducking down as Nea gets hooked nearby.

The killer patrols the house, but Jake has already healed inside the locker. He just needs to wait for the killer to give up searching—

Suddenly, the killer yanks the lockers open and Jake nearly shits his pants. Ace appears back in the doorway, sprinting to him with a panicked expression, and upon seeing the man so worried for him Jake almost drops the shiv he's planning to embed in the killer's back.

Almost.

The killer shrieks from the stab, dropping Jake on the ground. He runs to the hook to save Nea, the impatient girl apparently having tried to unhook herself, the Entity’s claws already descending on her. Bill beats him to it, but even with both of them there, there’s no way they’re going to have enough time to heal her. Ace screams from inside the house, having taken a hit for them. They're all injured and scatter in different directions, and the killer, furious, decides to tunnel Nea.

Jake loses track of Bill and Ace, but a generator gets completed, Bill apparently having left one near-finished for a situation like this. Jake glances over and spots Nea running into one of the houses. Surely, she can keep the killer busy for just a little while longer.

Jake finds Bill already on an exit, coughing up blood from his injuries while still fearlessly pressuring the gate.

“What the hell's going on over there?" Bill chastises.

“Nea needs help,” Jake merely offers in explanation.

Bill heals him and shouts a “GO!” when Jake tries to return the favor. Jake sprints back into the map, hoping to find the woman.

And then he hears her go down. The killer isn’t picking her up, instead Jake hears it break a couple of pallets. When he finds Nea, she's recovering on the ground and the killer is standing right on top of her, waiting out Decisive, not eager to take another stab in the back. Jake gets seen on purpose, running right into the open, and the killer opens its maw in a threat but doesn't chase him.  
Jake bites his lip in frustration. Nea has started crawling, the unspoken code for only needing one last push from someone to get back on her feet. If only he could get to her—

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake sees Ace making his way over from the side. He glances at the other without turning his head, not wanting to make it obvious since Ace hasn’t been spotted yet.

When Ace nods in acknowledgement, Jake runs closer to the killer, doing a couple of circles for good measure. The killer hisses, and actually gets away from Nea to chase him. He leads the killer across the street, taking a clawed swing to the back for his troubles, while Ace runs in. The killer immediately turns around after landing the hit, but Ace should have more than enough time—

“Estúpida—why haven't you recovered!?” he hears Ace curse. _Fuck_. He runs back to Bill to get healed, hearing the killer lunge at Ace. There's no scream to signal a hit, and right after Nea is lifted off the ground and sacrificed on hook.

“Motherfucker,” Bill summarizes his thoughts and finally accepts healing.

Jake is worried for Ace. The man is at full health and surely has the other exit prepped, but Jake can hear the Demogorgon trying to lunge at him.

“Let's go, kid,” Bill commands, opening the exit, but Jake isn't moving, still looking into the trial worriedly. Bill huffs in annoyance and leaves.

Jake waits for the sound of the hatch opening, signaling he's alone in the trial, before exiting.

“Good work, everyone!” Ace greets them when they group together at the foggy path leading from trial to campfire. “Well, except for Nea. Crazy girl.”

“Could’a saved her if she’d just recovered,” Bill grumbles.

Jake may be a horrible human being, but he doesn't really care about Nea right now. He's actually kind of mad at her for putting Ace in danger with her petty stunt.

“You did good, ángel,” Ace addresses him with a smile.

“That my nickname now?” Jake asks, amusement in his voice as he adjusts the halo.

“Jesus, get a fucking room," Bill snarks, rolling his eyes. Jake tenses and Ace raises an eyebrow at the veteran. “I got chased for several minutes and did three gens by myself while you two were busy fondling each other around hook.”

Ace blinks, he can see it through the sunglasses, confusion on his features. Meanwhile Jake merely glares at Bill, trying to warn him to _shut the fuck up_ before he scares Ace away—

“So just fuck already, get it out of your systems so you’re not a liability in trials,” Bill, to Jake's mortification, finishes, lighting a cigarette in annoyance. He starts power-walking ahead of them, taking long puffs off the cig.

Jake sighs and turns to Ace, but falters upon seeing a delightful flush on the man's face as he adjusts his sunglasses, looking away from Jake.

“Well, that old geezer sure has interesting opinions on the events that unfolded,” Ace offers with a shaky smile. He's nervous, Jake realizes.

“He's not wrong,” Jake blurts. Ace turns to him, looking at him in surprise. “I can't focus on the trial when you're there.”

Ace's mouth opens and then closes, and then he clears his throat.

“I'm not usually this… self-sacrificing, with the others, either,” Ace settles on. 

Jake stares at Ace's face, into his eyes that he knows are looking up at him through the shades. At some point, they've stopped walking, just standing in the emptiness together. Waiting.

“I wanna kiss you,” Jake says. He doesn't mean to think out loud, but when Ace's mouth quirks up into a smile, a _real_ smile, he can't help but copy the action.

He doesn't know which of them closes the distance first, all he knows is he has this arrogant and snarky and wonderful man in his arms that's kissing him with months—years?—worth of pent-up emotions. Fuck, why didn't he do this sooner? 

He runs a hand through Ace's hair, dislodging the baseball cap, while Ace's hand cups his cheek and the other grabs the collar of his jacket. Jake wraps an arm around Ace's waist, pulling him closer, and the man moans into the kiss and parts his lips. Jake wastes no time deepening the kiss, licking into Ace's mouth and groaning as their tongues tangle together. Shit, maybe Bill was right, maybe they should just fuck—

“AHEM,” a loud clearing of a throat snaps Jake out of it, and they're both pulling apart and gasping for air. God, Ace looks good when he's breathless and flushed and his lips glisten wetly—

Ace looks to the side and his mouth opens in shock. Jake follows his gaze and freezes; they're in the middle of camp, and the rest of the survivors are staring at them.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Jane says. “But maybe this isn't the place.”

“I, uh, see, we—err,” Ace flounders. Jake couldn't really care less about what the others think, but he glances around for shits and giggles while Ace tries to come up with an explanation to Jane.

Dwight, predictably, has gone beet red, and Claudette's not faring much better. Meg's face is scrunched up in confusion, while Nea merely rolls her eyes.

“What the fuck,” Jake hears Yui mutter and whips around to glare at her.

“Told ya," Bill says around his cigarette.

Meanwhile, Feng has started making exaggerated gagging noises.

“Nobody forced you to watch," Jake deadpans, rolling his eyes as he starts walking out of the camp. “You coming?” he offers to Ace.

The man jumps a little from surprise, glancing around at the others. Some are clearly holding back snickers.

“Uh, sure!” Ace apparently makes up his mind, trailing after him, and now at least David _definitely_ chuckles.

Jake grabs Ace's hand, to which the other looks up at him and blushes, and Jake offers him an encouraging smile before throwing the finger over his shoulder at David and the others, which earns him a proud guffaw from Bill.

“Well, at least now we know what happens if one lingers after the trial,” Ace quips when they’re out of earshot from the camp. Jake hums in agreement, a little annoyed at having been teleported into the middle of camp and cutting their make-out session short. “Jake, uh… you’re still holding my hand,” Ace nervously jokes.

“Yup,” Jake says, popping the p and squeezing Ace’s hand for good measure. 

He looks around the vaguely familiar forest; he could have sworn it was somewhere around here…

“Just… letting you know,” Ace mumbles with a small grin, not making any move to dislodge his hand from Jake’s, obediently following his lead. Jake finally spots the scenery he was looking for, reluctantly letting Ace’s hand fall from his as he pushes through the last of the shrubbery and holds some branches out of the way for Ace to follow.

“Oh… wow,” Ace comments, taking in the large oak tree, its low-hanging branches making for the perfect illusion of privacy. He follows Jake into the middle of it, the moonlight flowing through the leaves and the grass rustling against their shoes as they walk. “Nice find.”

“Thanks,” Jake comments and flops down to lay in the soft grass, adjusting his halo to not dig into the back of his head while staring up at the majestic tree. Ace hesitates for a heartbeat, before sitting down next to him. The gambler grimaces a little bit, probably due to the dampness seeping into his clothes from the grass. Jake has learned not to care, since it’s not like they ever get cold in the realm.

“So… what do you want to do?” Ace asks after a moments silence, adjusting and re-adjusting the cuffs of his jacket nervously.

“I was hoping to pick up where we left off,” Jake admits, looking up at Ace’s curious face, and doesn’t miss the twitch in the corner of the other’s lips at the confession. “But we can just hang out too.”

Ace clears his throat, before reaching to remove his sunglasses, neatly folding them and placing them to the side. “I vote option A,” he says, no longer able to resist the smirk tugging at his lips.

Jake responds with a grin of his own, leaning up while Ace bends down, meeting him in the middle as their lips find each other again.


	12. Ace X Dwight: Secret Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i was joking about how funny it would be if all of the surv boys secretly pined for dwight (y'know, since he's shipped with practically everyone), and then got a tumblr request of dwight picking ace over everyone else and the rest being ultra confused

“—fock off with that shit! He’s stayin’ with me!” David yells.

“I should share with him, I’m his best friend!” Jake counters.

“Ya just wanna get in ‘is pants!” David accuses.

“Oh, as opposed to you, huh?” Quentin butts in, crossing his arms and glaring defiantly at the Englishman.

Ace leans further back against the log and watches the spectacle unfold with a lazy smirk.

The Entity had recently gifted them tents to sleep in, only there weren’t enough for everyone and some would have to share. The girls had been able to decide their sleeping arrangements easily, but David’s temper had sparked an argument among the boys and now all of the men were sent into the woods until they could come up with a solution— _‘Peacefully,’_ Claudette had insisted, shooting a pointed look David’s way.

Which was proving much harder than anyone would have anticipated, since it turned out nearly everyone wanted to share with Dwight, and weren’t afraid of voicing it since their leader was currently stuck in a trial and oblivious to the argument going on.

Bill had left only minutes into the discussion, angrily claiming he’d rather sleep on the ground than listen to them for another second, followed by Tapp and Ash who had watched the scene with varying levels of disbelief before silently agreeing to share with each other.

Ace already knows how this will turn out, but it’s just funny to watch the others fight over Dwight.

“Since when ‘ave you lot even fancied ‘im?” David glares. “And you—ya barely just got ’ere!” he stops to address Felix in an accusation.

“And that means I probably have a better chance than any of you,” Felix explains calmly. “I’d actually make a move and not just pine for four years.”

“Hey!” Jake protests.

“Alright, what reason the rest of ya got?” David demands, regarding the group skeptically.

“I just wanna make sure he’s not perved on by someone else!” Quentin argues.

“No, you want to white knight for him!” Jake counters.

“Shut up Jake, now what about the rest?” David interrupts.

“I’d just really like to spend some time with him to get to know him better,” Adam explains.

“Me too,” Jeff says. “I haven’t had a proper chance to ask him if he’d be interested.”

David nods in acknowledgement, before his eyes meet Ace’s and he can’t quite suppress the disgusted sneer upon imagining Dwight ending up sharing a sleeping space with him.

“I just think he’s cute,” Ace says with a smile, giving a one-shoulder shrug.

“Look, why is Ace even here?” Jake sighs in annoyance. “Nobody would touch him with a ten-foot pole, least of all Dwight. He should just go share with Bill or something.”

“Maybe we should ask Dwight who he wants to share with?” Steve suggests, cocking his head in thought.

“NO!” a chorus of protests interrupt him and the well-intentioned teen offers an apologetic grin.

“Look, we all know _I’m_ ‘is type—” David starts, puffing up his chest, highlighting his generously open neckline that shows off his build.

“You don’t know _shit_ ,” Jake argues. “He sure as hell wouldn’t go for a dumb meathead like you!”

“Mate, you watch your mouth—” David starts.

“There you are!” a familiar voice interrupts the argument and both David and Jake freeze, turning their heads to look at Dwight making his way over to the group. “What’s going on? Bill said I should come sort something out?”

“Uhh…”

Ace rolls his eyes. At first, everyone was shouting over each other, and now, face to face with the object of their affection, are rendered speechless like a couple of schoolboys.

“Err, did you see the tents?” Steve starts, taking the initiative to explain when nobody else is making a move to do so.

“Oh! Yeah, they’re pretty neat, huh?” Dwight says with a small smile.

“Y-yeah,” Steve stammers and blushes a little, Dwight’s cuteness apparently making his words leave him, so Jeff takes over.

“There’s not enough for everyone, so we were just trying to figure out the sleeping arrangements,” Jeff explains. “Do you… um, do you have a preference…?”

Ace can feel everyone holding their breaths as Dwight blinks a couple times in confusion, before a flush spreads over his face.

“Oh, uh, don’t worry about me,” Dwight says, nervously wringing his hands together, before finally meeting Ace’s gaze. “I already know who I’m sharing with.”

Ace swears he hears jaws drop to the floor as Dwight makes his way over and sits down next to him, making himself comfortable against Ace like he’s done countless times before, only this time they have an audience.

“Welcome back, cariño,” Ace murmurs warmly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “How was your trial?”

“It was okay,” Dwight says, looking up at him with a happy smile. “Could have used some of your crazy luck, though. I missed you.”

And then the boy dares to place a peck on his cheek in their first gesture of PDA, and Ace doesn’t even bother trying to hide his smug grin from the others.

“You could have told us,” Adam scolds him, huffing in annoyance but otherwise seeming to have collected himself.

“What?” Dwight pipes up, a frown on his handsome face and oblivious to Ace taking his silent victory over the others. “What do you mean?”

“N-no, not you…” Adam stammers, averting his eyes.

“Fucking figures,” Quentin scoffs in disgust, meeting Ace’s eyes and not bothering to mask his hostility.

“Is there a problem?” Dwight is suddenly raising his voice, wrapping his arms around Ace almost protectively, looking at the others defiantly as if daring someone to protest.

Ace finds the display unbelievably adorable, his normally meek boyfriend coming out of his shell to defend his honor. He places a kiss into Dwight’s hairline to soothe some of his nerves but not ready to defuse just yet, a twisted part of him wanting to see how the others react to their leader’s possessive behavior.

“Not at all,” Jeff says, trying and failing to hide the surprise on his face. “We just had no idea you were… involved.”

“We’re not ‘involved’, we’re dating. He’s my _boyfriend,_ ” Dwight is quick to remove any doubts, scowling at the others as intimidatingly as anyone with his baby face and doe-like brown eyes is capable of.

“Well, I suppose that’s the end of that discussion,” Felix comments, not seeming terribly phased to learn that Dwight is taken.

“Yeah, uh… congrats!” Steve laughs nervously and gives them an awkward thumbs-up.

“You’d better take care of him,” Jake glares at Ace like he’s the scum of the Earth, and Ace is fluent enough in Jake-talk to know that’s the closest thing he’ll get to having the saboteur’s blessing.

Ace raises a challenging eyebrow in response and Jake grits his teeth to no doubt suppress a snarky comment that he knows Dwight wouldn’t appreciate hearing, and Ace smirks over the moral victory and focuses his attention on David instead.

And promptly has to suppress a laugh over the brawler’s reaction. David is staring at them, or well, mostly at Ace. He looks completely gobsmacked, looking Ace up and down before looking down at his own, naked and well-defined chest, confused beyond what his fighting-filled brain can handle.

“Something on your mind, King?” Ace asks cockily, knowing full well the scrapper is most likely trying to figure out why Dwight would choose someone like Ace over a prime specimen like himself.

“How the _fuck_ ,” David merely mutters but, thankfully, isn’t picking a fight. Dwight still tenses in Ace’s arms and Ace’s grip tightens around him in an attempt to soothe him.

“Shh, it’s fine,” Ace murmurs into his lover’s soft hair, and that’s enough to reassure Dwight, the man relaxing into the embrace.

“So, guess we’re sharing with each other!” Steve exclaims, breaking some of the tension over the group. “Who’s going with who?”

“I’ll come with you,” Quentin says, still sounding a little pissed off but not about to cuss anyone out again, at least. “Unless someone has any more confessions to spring on us,” he snarks.

“Works for me,” Steve beams, nothing seeming to ruin his good mood.

Ace hears Felix mutter something about how he “Might as well go with Bill”, but then he sees David approaching Jake and instantly focuses on that instead.

“So, Jake…” David starts, cocky attitude back in place as he approaches the sulking saboteur with his shirt fluttering open—what the hell, did he pop even _more_ of the buttons?

“What,” Jake spits, the challenging glare never leaving his face, and Ace almost prepares for a fight to break out.

“Wanna share?” David asks instead, not bothering to hide the way his gaze roams over Jake’s body. Ace chokes on a disbelieving laugh and from the way Dwight’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head, he’s not imagining the sudden sexual tension between the two frenemies.

He sees the wariness in Jake’s expression, and the way his eyes very obviously linger on David’s now exposed chest.

“ _Fine,_ ” Jake says, but it lacks any real heat, at least of the ‘I’m-five-seconds-away-from-punching-you’ kind, and David grins and seems way too pleased with himself.

Well, there goes everyone’s undisturbed sleep for tonight.

Finally having sorted out their sleeping arrangements, with Adam and Jeff being the unlucky ones left but not seeming to mind being stuck together, the others take their leave to go set up the tents.

Ace is finally able to wipe the smirk off his face in favor of a softer smile that’s solely reserved for Dwight, turning his head around to face his boyfriend and about to start explaining the strange behavior from the others, when…

“Had enough of your gloating?” Dwight deadpans, taking Ace completely off guard and making him gape a little stupidly. “I’m not dumb, I saw what you were doing.”

Ace offers a nervous chuckle while trying to collect himself. He should have known by now Dwight is not nearly as naïve as he seems, and that he’d easily pick up on what was really happening.

“I’m sorry, amor,” Ace says, wincing from embarrassment over his childish actions. “I did want to show you off, especially after hiding for so long. And I also really wanted to watch Jake eat his words,” he confesses, clasping Dwight’s hand and bringing it up to brush his lips against the knuckles. “Forgive me?”

Dwight’s frown immediately melts into a dopey smile, and Ace barely has the time to blink in confusion over the kid’s perfect poker face before Dwight’s lips are meeting his in a reassuring kiss.

“Of course, you dummy,” Dwight beams at him, placing one last quick peck on his lips. “I’m just… really happy you think I’m even worth showing off.”

“No no no, sweetheart, we’ve talked about this,” Ace returns the smile, carding a hand through Dwight’s hair in encouragement, his boyfriend immediately leaning into the touch. “You’re not allowed to talk about yourself that way. Because…?”

“Because I’m…” Dwight starts, a flush creeping up his neck. “’Gorgeous’ and ‘perfect’,” he says, doing air quotes.

“Uh-huh,” Ace’s smile widens into a knowing grin as he takes Dwight’s hands in his own to stop the self-conscious gesture. “And?”

“S…” Dwight flounders as his face reddens even further and he averts his eyes. “S-‘sexy’.”

“Damn right you are,” Ace purrs, releasing his gentle hold on Dwight’s hands to wrap around his waist instead. “I’ve got good taste.”

As if 75% of the male survivor population thirsting after his adorable boyfriend wasn’t proof enough.

“You’re ridiculous,” Dwight huffs, embarrassment giving way to a fond smile.

“You love it,” Ace counters, placing a playful peck on Dwight’s nose.

“I love _you,_ ” Dwight corrects, chasing his lips and going in for a passionate kiss that has Ace’s breath hitching in his throat and his heart hammering in his chest.

And damn, if the others knew exactly what they were missing when it comes to Dwight Fairfield, Ace would be in a lot of trouble.


	13. Jake X David (NSFW): Angry Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is rated explicit! it's a continuation from the previous chapter (ace/dwight) because one of my tumblr friends gave me very bad ideas.  
> also i really wanted to write david bottoming ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

As Jake walks back to camp with the others, leaving Dwight and Ace alone to do god-knows-what, he feels some of his irritation fade away.

He's still a little surprised that nearly all of the men held a secret flame for their leader, and had been almost offended; _he’s_ known Dwight the longest, how dare they try to schmooze their way between them! He'd badly wanted to punch the new guy in the face for giving Jake shit over pining for four years, no matter how accurate it was. The only thing stopping him was his reluctance to stoop to David's level.

Speaking of the brawler, Jake had assumed he'd only had David to compete with for Dwight’s attention. The loud-mouthed Englishman wasn't nearly as subtle as he seemed to think, and Jake would be surprised if there was anyone in camp who _didn’t_ know he’d been after Dwight. Still, Jake hadn’t been worried, confident in his chances. He thought he knew Dwight well enough to know he'd definitely pick brains over brawn any day of the week.

But he'd actually picked another quality altogether; wit.

Jake never really considered Ace an actual threat, taking into account the man’s habit to flirt with everything that moved. He had no idea that with Dwight, he'd apparently actually meant it.

It's still surprising that Dwight would go for an older guy, but maybe he should have seen it coming. Maybe Dwight needed someone who was straightforward in showing interest and free with their compliments.

Unlike Jake with his sour attitude and four-year pining.

Jake’s patience had been thoroughly put to the test as soon as they got back to the campfire and he'd had to pitch the tent with David, of all people. No matter how much Jake insisted that he was the more experienced of the two when it came to the outdoors lifestyle, David was having none of it and kept getting in the way.

It was almost enough for him to regret the impulse decision of agreeing to sleep with the man.

Now, they’re finally done with the tent and David has the audacity to look proud, despite doing nothing but sabotage their efforts. Most of the others have already crawled into theirs, only Bill sitting outside smoking a cigarette and Nea cussing out one of the poles in her native tongue while struggling to finish hers and Laurie’s.

Of course David immediately goes inside, not even bothering to remove his shoes and dragging a bunch of dirt and mud inside, causing Jake to grit his teeth.

“Shoes. Off,” he growls.

“Alright, _mum_ ,” David snarks. “Didn't know yer such a prissy.”

Jake abandons the argument in favor of getting some supplies from his stash at the edge of camp. He grabs his puff vest to use as a pillow, along with a tube of vegetable oil from one of his toolboxes.

When he unzips the tent and steps inside, shoes carefully placed outside, David scoffs.

“Look who decided to show up. Thought ya changed yer mind.”

It's dark inside the tent, only the campfire casting a dim orange glow through the thin fabric. It takes Jake’s eyes a second to adjust to the darkness, and when he does, he sees David's scowl.

“What, you wanted to fuck dry?” Jake shoots back, throwing the tube at David with more force than necessary. It hits him in his stupidly well-defined, exposed chest and falls into his lap.

“Ya wanna go all the way?” David sounds surprised.

“I don't do things half-assed,” Jake responds. “Or are you having second thoughts?”

“Nah mate, just didn't take ya for the type," David says. “You, uh… ya wanna do it now?”

“Sure as hell won't get any better with time.”

“Well. Come on, then.”

David cocks his head in challenge, and Jake is not one to back down. He crawls over to David and immediately goes in for a rough kiss.

“Ugh, no kissing,” David immediately recoils in disgust. “What are ya, a chick? Ya want some candles an’ roses while yer at it?”

Jake's hands tighten into fists at the jab. If that was how David wanted to play this, fine.

“Just trying to get you to shut up,” Jake shoots back with no small amount of hostility. “Every time you open your mouth, I go flaccid.”

“They make pills for that,” David snarks back.

So instead of kissing, Jake yanks David's stupidly open shirt down and leans down to bite at his now exposed shoulder. And if he's a little too forceful, David has it coming.

“Fuck,” David grunts, a hand tightening in Jake’s hair almost painfully. “Of course you're fuckin' feral.”

Jake sucks harder at the skin and David's comments thankfully morph into a groan.

If he can't kiss, he sure as hell isn't going to waste time. Jake rubs at David’s junk through his jeans, already half-hard from anticipation and the assault on his shoulder.

“Pretty eager,” Jake can't resist commenting.

“S-shut up,” David growls, pulling Jake down to straddle his lap, hands roughly grabbing his ass. In retaliation, Jake grinds their bulges together and moves to bite at the other's neck.

David groans and thrusts up against him, eager hands exploring his body, squeezing his ass, running over his thighs, and slipping under his shirt to run up his back before hiking up the garment.

“Show me yer tits,” David commands, tugging on the shirt. And Jake snorts, the crude comment reminding him of why he never approached David in the first place.

Luckily, he’s too angry and too horny to care.

He leans back and pulls his shirt up and David's teeth immediately close around his nipple, Jake letting out a surprised grunt at the rough treatment.

Blood rushes to his dick as David sucks and nibbles on the hardened bud while groping his ass, and Jake's hands land in the scrapper’s short hair.

“Harder,” Jake demands, tugging on the grimy hair.

David chuckles like the egoistical bastard that he is, but thankfully obliges, scraping his teeth more firmly over the nipple while his hand rubs at the other. It’s better, but still not nearly enough.

“I said _harder!_ ” Jake demands, pulling on David's hair hard enough to make the fighter grunt in pain.

Still, it gets the job done, and Jake bites his lip to muffle an aroused whimper when David's teeth close around a bud _hard_ and his hand tugs brutally on the other.

It's just what he wanted, and lust clouds his mind as he starts humping down into David's lap, against the very obvious erection in the scrapper's own pants.

“Bloody hell, you're needy,” David pulls away from his chest because of course he would, just as it was getting good— “Can't wait to have ya squirmin' on my cock.”

…Wait, what?

“What?” Jake asks, stilling the movement of his hips.

“Can't wait to fuck ya,” David smirks, letting Jake in on the fact that there had been a definitive misunderstanding.

“Like hell I'm bottoming!” Jake protests, getting up from David's lap in disgust.

David silently regards his somewhat scrawny body.

“I'm a top,” Jake informs.

And then David has the audacity to _laugh_.

“Fine, have it your way,” Jake spits, laying down on his side and turning his back to the brawler with a huff.

“Aw, come on mate, I was just horsin' around,” David elbows him in the back. “We'll do somethin' else. Can I jack ya off?”

“No, I'm good,” Jake snarls, glaring into the side of the tent.

For once, David goes blissfully quiet, and Jake thinks he's finally given up.

He doesn't usually mind going either way, as long as it's with someone he trusts or, at the very least, even remotely _likes_. He would have happily bottomed for Dwight, but now he's stuck with this stupid meathead with zero self-restraint that seems even less willing to compromise than Jake.

“Ugh, _fine_ ,” David suddenly sighs. “You can have my arse.”

Jake turns his head just the tiniest amount. “I'm listening.”

“But I wanna blowjob first,” David demands.

“Deal.”

David clearly doesn’t expect him to practically pounce on him, grunting out a surprised “Oof” as Jake turns around and pushes him down in one smooth motion. He wastes no time, immediately going for the zipper of David’s pants.

“Knew ya were eager for my cock,” David grins smugly and Jake, again, has to resist the urge to kiss him if only to shut him up. Instead, he leans to bite at a nipple and palms at the rapidly reawakening bulge in David’s pants. His efforts earn him a drawn-out groan that makes his own dick perk up in interest.

Jake pulls the scrapper’s pants down to his thighs but then they get stuck, as David doesn’t seem to realize he has to actually do something other than lay back and moan.

“Off,” Jake demands, tugging on the garment insistently.

“You too,” David insists, slapping Jake’s hands away to undress himself.

Jake doesn’t really care either way, never having felt particularly self-conscious about his body. Only when he shrugs out of his parka does he realize his undershirt is clinging to his back with a twin layer of sweat, the temperature in the tent noticeably higher than before.

While he’s working on his pants, David has discarded his and has apparently decided to lay back and merely watch him undress, hand propped behind his head and a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. Jake tries to not give the bastard the satisfaction of looking at his naked body, but he can’t resist sneaking a couple of glances.

“Nice show,” David comments because _of course_ he does, thirty seconds of silence apparently the maximum time he can go without running his mouth.

Instead of a verbal reply, Jake rolls his eyes, finally stepping out of his pants and moving back between David’s legs.

Now he allows himself to look, because he can disguise it as just watching what he’s doing, grabbing David’s half-hard dick and both seeing and feeling it twitch. When he leans in to lick at the head to get a taste, David curses and his dick swells rapidly in Jake’s hand.

He could make a snarky comment, but decides his mouth is better used elsewhere, running his tongue along the frenulum and teasing it with kitten licks. David groans and a drop of pre bubbles up from his slit, cock fully hard just from some light teasing.

Jake pulls back just enough to fully look at him, working his hand over the shaft and thumbing the head to spread some of the slickness. He’s never been one to particularly care about dick sizes, but there’s a small self-satisfied part of him that’s happy to note that David isn’t nearly as big as his cocky attitude would have everyone to believe.

“Ya just gonna look at it, eh?” David comments impatiently.

In any case, a cock is a cock, and David’s slightly-less-than-average one is the best (and only) Jake has seen in years. Satisfied with his findings, he pulls David’s foreskin fully back and sucks the head into his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ yeah,” David murmurs in approval, his head falling back while his hips lift up to eagerly push up into Jake’s mouth.

Needing David to remember just who is in control here, Jake forces his hips right back down and pins them to the floor of the tent. An offended glare is shot his way, but it morphs into a open-mouthed groan as soon as Jake lowers his head to take more of David’s dick into his mouth.

And then the annoying asshole has to ruin it _again_ , a large hand roughly tangling into his hair.

“Yeah, tha's right, _take it_ ,” David grunts obnoxiously, and Jake feels his head being forcibly pushed further down than he's willing to go. He snarls around the dick in his mouth and immediately pulls off.

“Hands by your side,” Jake commands with a glare, yanking David's hand away from his hair. “Or this ends now.”

David rolls his eyes in exaggeration, but thankfully complies.

“Ya better be worth all this trouble,” he snarks, but the way his hips are canting towards Jake’s mouth betrays his eagerness. It’s probably the closest thing Jake will get to an apology, so he takes it.

No matter how much he wants to respond with an arrogant comeback, Jake has always been a “show, don’t tell” kind of guy, and so he gets right back to work.

This time, David lets him go at his own pace, and as Jake finds a rhythm with his hand and mouth, any annoyed grumbles turn into loud moans and hissed curses. Now free to do as he pleases, Jake alternates between sliding David’s dick into his mouth and teasing it with licks and kisses, running his tongue along the underside and lapping up the pre leaking from his slit.

“Christ,” David groans, watching him with half-lidded eyes. “Who knew ya had a mouth on ya?”

Despite the attitude, the fighter clearly isn’t used to taking such a passive role in bed, his hands balling into fists by his sides and his entire body tensing up, abs periodically flexing with the effort of holding still. Pleased with David’s efforts, Jake decides to reward him, dropping the teasing in favor of tightening his lips and bobbing up and down over the head, even easing his hold on David’s hips to allow him to thrust up.

“Fuck—just like ‘at,” David encourages, throwing his head back while shallowly humping into his mouth. “’M gonna—”

Jake hums in acknowledgement, knowing he could pull off but not really wanting to, fully intending to finish what he started. David’s body tenses even further and his dick grows impossibly harder, until he jolts and salty liquid rushes into Jake’s mouth, David groaning long and loud with his release.

When David slumps back down on the tent floor and the tension seeps out from his body, Jake pulls off his dick and belatedly realizes he has nowhere convenient to spit.

Not going to risk someone seeing him dispose of the spunk outside of the tent, Jake spits the load onto David’s cargo jacket partly out of spite.

“Bold of ya to assume I care,” David snorts, still boneless and sprawled out on the ground.

“Come on, my turn,” Jake reminds, nudging David’s hip with his hand. “Roll over.”

“Yeah, yeah,” David grumbles, rolling his eyes. “So bloody impatient.”

Jake, with some difficulty since David is still just laying there limply and not cooperating, manages to maneuver the brawler to lay on his stomach.

Now free to take in the toned body without David's ego inflating, Jake lets his gaze roam all over the muscular back and moves to straddle equally muscular thighs. Despite how much the fighter gets on Jake’s nerves, he can’t deny that he’s always thought he was hot.

He grabs a handful of firm ass and lifts one of David's cheeks, and the man under him huffs and fidgets uncertainly.

“Stay still,” Jake complains, and David grumbles something before obeying.

Jake lets go of the buttock and watches it jiggle back into place, causing his dick to throb in interest. He grabs both of the cheeks, kneading them before spreading them to reveal his goal.

He snorts upon seeing how hairy David's ass is, and the buttocks in his palms flex with tension.

“What're ya playin' at, mate?” David barks in offense.

“Calm your tits,” Jake huffs, groping the muscular flesh some more.

He looks at David's hole, laid out for him to do as he pleases with. Despite not being attached to the person he really wants, it looks inviting enough for Jake's dick to start leaking. He looks tight, maybe even just as inexperienced as he always imagined Dwight would be.

God, if he had Dwight in this position, he'd play with him for hours, until he was delirious with lust and begging for Jake's cock.

Stuck with the next best thing, Jake can't resist spitting on the hole just to see it twitch.

“Oi!” David protests, his entire body flinching. “Ya better use lube—”

Jake doesn't bother replying, instead leaning down to lick at the hole and causing David's complaint to morph into a cut-off scream.

“W-what the hell're ya doin'?” the scrapper demands.

“Would you shut up for two seconds?” Jake grumbles before diving right back in.

“F- _fuuuck_ ,” David groans, long and loud. “Should'a known you were a sick bastard.”

Holy hell, would he _stop talking?_

“I'm not the one moaning like a slut,” Jake pulls away long enough to point out.

“Shut your _aaahn_ —” David moans as Jake gets back to work, proving his point.

Jake goes to town and the rimjob, thankfully, seems to render David into an incoherent, groaning mess. He tries really hard to imagine he's doing this to Dwight, but David is obnoxiously loud and his deep voice isn't anywhere near how Jake imagines Dwight would whine and moan quietly.

He reaches for the lube and doesn't give David any warning before pressing a finger in alongside his tongue, and the brawler grunts and twitches but doesn't protest.

Jake pulls his mouth off in favor of squirting more lube down David's crack, working it inside with his finger and adding another when the slide gets easier.

He accidentally brushes against David’s prostate, based on the way the man grunts and his entire body jolts, and has half a mind to just ignore the spot. This is supposed to be about him, since David already got off. But, like he said earlier, he doesn't like to half-ass things (no pun intended), so he rubs against the spot firmly, until David's moans get so loud he loses patience.

He lubes up his cock with his left hand, and then the fingers slide out and his cock is positioned against the hole. Pressing against it but not pushing inside, not yet, because he's not an animal and he needs consent.

“Do it,” David says, voice hoarse.

“What was that? I didn't quite catch you,” Jake snarks, sliding his tip over the wet and now slightly gaping hole.

“Just _fuck me_ , you arse!” David yells in frustration.

“I think you mean _your_ ass,” Jake smirks and pushes inside.

Jesus, _fuck_ , he's tight. Jake grits his teeth as his dick is engulfed in _hot slick tight_ but doesn't still his hips until he's fully seated.

David is tense, he can see his muscular back flexing, hands balled into fists and face buried in someone's discarded pants while he adjusts to the initial penetration. And Jake is nothing if not a courteous lover, waiting for the vice grip to give way before starting a slow roll of his hips and gradually picking up the pace when David isn't protesting.

He feels really fucking good around Jake's cock, gripping tight and easily adjusting to his size. But David groans even louder than before, and it almost sounds the same as when he's injured. Jake frowns and slows down, because he's not an asshole and doesn't actually want to hurt him.

“Ya better not be close already,” David snarls and starts bucking up onto Jake's cock, and Jake belatedly realizes the sound just means he's really getting into it.

Shit, now he’ll never be able to listen to David in a trial without thinking about this moment.

“On your knees,” Jake commands, surprised when David complies without question, leaning back with Jake until he's on all fours all the while fucking himself onto Jake's cock.

The new position allows Jake to go deeper, and he grabs David's hips and starts pounding away.

Jake, again, tries his hardest to imagine it's Dwight that he's fucking, but David's obnoxious grunts and moans are making it impossible.

“God, you moan like a whore,” Jake says, mostly in spite, bringing his hand down to slap the muscular ass.

“ _Fuck you,_ ” David pants, breathless. “That all you got?”

It's not nearly all he's got, and David _wails_ as Jake snaps his hips back in hard, setting a brutal pace that drags across his prostate.

David is practically screaming as he claws on the fabric of the tent’s floor, and Jake doesn't have any illusion that the entire camp doesn't know what they're doing. Instead of being embarrassed, he feels kind of smug to have reduced the narcissistic loudmouth into screaming for his cock.

Unfortunately, the power trip and incredible tightness of David's ass are getting to him, and he can feel himself getting close.

“Don't stop, don't you _dare_ fuckin' stop,” David grits out through clenched teeth, and Jake notices his arm moving in a way that clearly tells him he's touching himself.

And Jake wants to come, _needs_ to come, but his stubbornness prevents him, going into a meditative state usually reserved for dulling out the pain in trials, determined to make the arrogant man come on his cock.

He keeps diligently fucking into a now wildly bucking and screaming David, aiming for his prostate at every thrust, sheer willpower allowing him to stay impossibly hard while not shooting his load.

And then David is groaning and clenching around him with his release, Jake letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, fucking him through it while the tight passage essentially massages his cock.

David's breath is ragged while he keeps himself propped up, arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

“Do it,” the scrapper grunts breathlessly.

Jake stops holding back, brutally pistoning into David's spent but still deliciously tight body, not caring that a few quiet moans manage to slip through as the pleasure starts peaking, his rhythm faltering, _so close_ —

“If ya come inside I'll deck ya,” David grumbles weakly.

The warning is really at the last second, because Jake barely has time to pull out of the spent hole before his orgasm rips through him. His breath hitches as jolts of pleasure pulse through him from his dick, shooting his load all over David's ass and thighs.

And then it's over, Jake slumping down on his back next to David and panting to catch his breath. He stares up at the ceiling of the tent and waits for the post-nut clarity to hit and tell him what a terrible idea this was.

“Guess ya ain't such a shit top after all,” David grunts next to him, wiping at his spunked buttocks with what Jake thinks is his parka. He doesn't give a shit about the petty revenge of ruining each other’s clothes, way more concerned with the fact that he doesn't feel angry or grossed out over having given in to the scrapper's advances. In fact, he feels pretty damn good.

“You're a pretty shit bottom,” Jake throws back without any real heat. “Couldn't tell whether you wanted to fuck or fight.”

“Me neither,” David snorts, throwing the bunched-up, cum-stained jacket carelessly to the side.

Jake rolls his eyes at the sentiment while David lays down next to him, their shoulders bumping into one another, and it's a weird moment of quiet camaraderie. Jake lets himself relax, closing his eyes and giving his body a much needed breather after the strain.

“So, same time tomorrow?” David offers, and Jake can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

Feeling a smirk tugging on his own lips, Jake opens his mouth to reply, when—

_Clap_.

He frowns, focusing on the sound.

_Clap. Clap_.

Even David seems confused, looking around the tent.

“Knock it out!" someone hisses from outside, probably one of the other tents, and _wow_ Jake can hear it really clearly—

“Bravo, boys!” Ace's obnoxious cheer is clear as day.

“Ace!” Dwight reprimands, and Jake realizes just how well the others have been able to overhear the entirety of their activities. And now Ace is being a bastard and sarcastically applauding the performance, and to Jake's annoyance, others are joining in.

“Yeah, nice work Jake!” Feng snickers.

“Encore, encore!” Steve hollers.

“Oh no you _fucking_ don't!” Bill warns.

“Yeah guys, I think Claude's about to combust from how hard she’s blushing,” Meg says.

“I feel her, I'm so fucking glad I'm gay,” Nea jokes. “Also Laurie hasn't moved in like five minutes and I think she might have actually died from second hand embarrassment.”

“D'aww, let the boys have some fun y'all!” Kate protests.

“They can have fun while keeping quiet like normal people,” Quentin argues.

“Maybe we should actually spread the tents out next time and avoid the problem entirely,” Felix suggests with a yawn.

“But still, they shouldn’t—” Jane starts arguing and Jake decides he's had enough.

He rolls his eyes and turns to look at David, expecting him to be embarrassed over the entire camp having heard him moaning like a common whore on Jake's dick. Instead, David is looking just as smug as ever, sprawled out on Jake’s cargo pants with one arm propped behind his head.

“Should start chargin' fer the show,” David offers with a self-satisfied smirk. “So, waddaya think?”

Jake only has to consider for a second.

“I know a nice spot for camping far out in the woods,” Jake replies with a smirk.


	14. Huntress X Kate: Songbird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a tumblr request! this one is just fluff <3

The Huntress patrols the forest, guarding it against intruders. The land isn’t the same as before, the monster having changed and distorted it. There’s no signs of life, no animals or bugs or anything but perpetual night. But it's still her home.

A branch cracks behind her and Anna instantly turns around, hatchet raised above her head and ready to either throw it in warning or to kill depending on who she finds. She has no sympathy for the servants of the monster that take pleasure in killing, following their captor willingly and sometimes coming to her home to try to threaten her into doing the same. She's axed the man in full leather at least three times by this point, and won't hesitate to raise her weapon against the others either.

But sometimes, it's a survivor that gets lost and wanders into the outskirts of her realm. She has no desire to kill them outside of trials unless she has to, as the small, unarmed humans pose no threat to her. A well-placed hatchet next to their heads usually does the trick; once, she even embedded an axe between the pink-shirted man's knees when he had the audacity to bring his new friend into her forest to frolic against a tree. No matter how much she missed the animals of the woods, she wasn't going to let them go at it like rabbits. Still, it was fun to watch him squeal, and she hasn't seen him or his tall friend since.

But instead of an unwelcome visitor, the Huntress' eyes land on the only person she's ever considered a friend, and it makes her immediately lower her hatchet.

“Anna!” Kate calls, running towards her quite clumsily, in Anna's opinion. She's lucky the forest is void of its predators or the noise would surely have attracted them.

The girl is smiling, a once foreign expression that Anna has now come to expect of her, knowing something is wrong if Kate's lips aren't curling upward. She's carrying something on her shoulder and has what looks to be several maps in her hand.

Anna makes a sound of bewilderment and tilts her head in question as the girl approaches.

“I have a surprise for you!” Kate is saying and while Anna doesn't understand the words, she realizes the girl doesn't want her to look at the items from the way she very obviously moves to hide them behind her back. It makes her curious, but Kate is still smiling, so she knows everything is alright.

“Why don't we go sit on the balcony?” Kate says, pointing to the house.

“Home?” Anna suggests eagerly, using one of the few words she's learned from Kate.

“Yes! Let's go home!” Kate smiles brightly and grabs Anna's hand in her much smaller one.

When they get to the house, Kate leads them upstairs, to a spot on the balcony where they can see the moon. She motions for Anna to take a seat, and Anna, a little reluctantly, lets go of her hand to sit down and lean against the cabin wall.

Kate settles opposite of her, sitting down cross-legged and setting the maps down in front of her. She pulls the item from her back, and Anna recognizes it as the stringed wooden box she uses to make beautiful music. It's not the first time Kate has brought the item with her and it makes Anna's heart start beating faster, eager to hear more of Kate's pretty songs even if she doesn't understand the words. Singing is the thing that initially made them approach each other, Anna being fascinated ever since she heard Kate softly humming in a trial.

She watches Kate pull the box into her lap before leaning down to straighten out the maps in front of her. There's some strange writing on them that Anna hasn't seen before, but she also doesn't know how to read. Maybe that's just Kate's language.

“Can you take your mask off, hon?” Kate addresses her, and Anna recognizes the word even before Kate brings her hand up on her own face to gesture to it. “I really want to see your reaction, if that's alright.”

Anna doesn't understand why Kate asks, but she removes her mask, happy that it makes Kate smile even more. She's reminded of when she first did this, removing her mother's mask with shaking fingers, and Kate's face went a little red and she said one of Anna's now favorite words.

“Pretty,” Anna echoes the sentiment now, watching Kate's beautiful smile as their eyes meet without any barriers between them.

“You are,” Kate responds, pointing at Anna and making her face feel warmer than before.

“Alright, here goes,” Kate is clearing her throat. She grabs the music box by its long neck, preparing to start her song and making Anna perk up her ears in anticipation.

The first sound from the item hits her ears and makes something warm bubble up in her chest. Kate's fingers expertly move over the strings, creating sounds Anna has only heard in her dreams, delicate but still so strong. There's something familiar about the song, but Anna can't quite place it…

And then Kate starts humming her mother's lullaby and it sends shivers down Anna's spine.

Kate is mostly watching the writing on the papers while she sings, but she glances up every now and then to look at her reaction.

They've sang the melody many times together, the words having gotten lost over the years in Anna's memory, but Kate doesn't seem to mind. And she doesn't _need_ words, using her voice and her music to express every single one of Anna's bittersweet memories of her mother. The sounds from the strings sound both different and familiar, Kate creating something that's new and nostalgic at the same time.

When their eyes meet again, Kate's face softens into a fond smile and Anna realizes there are tears running down her own cheeks. But there must be something in her eyes that tells Kate that it's not because something is wrong, it's because something is _right_ , since she keeps humming and playing.

When Kate finishes the song, Anna has to be closer, _needs_ to be closer. She crawls over and grabs the item from Kate's hands, carefully, _carefully_ setting it on the floor. Anna pulls the still smiling girl into a hug, thrilled when she eagerly returns the embrace and laughs a cute little laugh into Anna's shoulder.

“Did'ya like it, hon? It's a little different, but I tried my best,” Kate murmurs, nuzzling into her neck.

There's so many things Anna wishes she could say, but she has to settle for hugging Kate tighter and whispering a sentiment she knows the meaning of, hoping the tears and her trembling voice will convey just how much she means it.

“ _Thank you_.”


	15. Trapper X David: Tooth and Nail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr request of evan being a survivor and ending up having the hots for david

Evan wakes up in the woods next to the estate in the middle of the night. He feels strange; not hungover like he expected after apparently blacking out, but like there's a fog surrounding his brain. Kind of like he was dreaming.

Evan usually doesn't have dreams, and he sure as hell doesn't lucid dream. This feels strangely realistic for a dream, even though most of the specifics are… _off_. There's remnants of destroyed structures that don't exist, and an unnatural fog surrounding the trees. Something tells him he needs to be careful, dream or not.

Evan spots movement between some rocks. He can barely make out the figure of a man, a scrawny one dressed in mining clothes and darting his eyes around as if keeping a lookout for someone.

Why is there a worker milling about the woods at night? Did he drug Evan? Is he planning to rob the estate?

The man spots him and his eyes widen before he takes off in a sprint.

“Thief! Get back here!” Evan yells, running after the scoundrel.

It’s hard to track the man in the middle of the night, darting between rocks and trees and almost causing Evan to lose him several times. Why does it feel like the thief knows Evan’s home better than him?

At least, after a merry chase ending in one of the estate’s toolsheds, the man finally seems to stop. Evan approaches from an angle he doesn’t expect and the scoundrel doesn’t spot him, pressing himself up against the shack wall to peek around a corner in the opposite direction.

Evan’s heart starts beating louder from adrenaline as he carefully approaches the lowlife, readying to tackle him to the ground—

And promptly screaming out in pain at a sharp sting in his back. Shit, looks like he walked right into a trap!

He whips around to face the perpetrator, a short man wearing a skull mask and dressed in all black, calmly wiping his bloodied knife on his sleeve after stabbing Evan.

“You’ll regret that," Evan snarls, hands balling into fists as he readies to strike—

And promptly falls on his face with a scream as his assailant’s knife slashes him in the chest.

Evan lays on the damp grass in shock, bringing a shaking hand to touch the wound, feeling a worrying amount of blood gushing out of it. How is it bleeding so heavily? Did he hit an artery? Why can’t he get back up?

His shock turns further into confusion as he feels himself being hoisted up on the scrawny man’s shoulder like he weighs nothing.

“Unhand me!” he demands, regaining some of his strength to kick and punch at the attacker carrying him away without even so much as a grunt of effort. “When my father hears about this, you’re going to wish you were dead!”

The criminal has the audacity to _snort_ , like the humiliation of getting overpowered and carried around like a sack of potatoes by a man half his size wasn’t enough of a hit to Evan’s pride.

Before he can give the brat a piece of his mind, he’s suddenly lifted upright, yelping out a curse from the sudden vertigo—

And then screaming until it feels like his lungs are giving out, because something sharp pierces through his shoulder with a wet squelch and sickening crunch, and Evan thinks he might actually die because it _burns_ like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

He thinks his body goes into some sort of shock, because when he comes to, he’s limply hanging from what looks to be a hook in his shoulder, like a pig left to bleed out in a slaughterhouse. The blood gushing out from the gaping wound has stained the entirety of his left side red, his shirt clinging wetly to his torso.

Evan grits his teeth against his quickening, panicked breaths, new determination coursing through him. He’s not about to die like an animal without even fighting back.

With no sign of either the criminal who stabbed him or the thief who lured him into the trap, Evan raises his arms behind him to grip the hook’s base with shaking hands. He starts lifting himself up, choking on a pained gasp as the rusty hook drags through the wound in his shoulder. Just a little more—

The blood on his hands causes his grip to slip and Evan wails as gravity makes him sink right back down on the hook, the pain feeling somehow even worse than before, irritating the raw, angry wound.

He takes a couple of shallow breaths, blinking the blurriness from his vision. He knows he doesn’t have long, the blood loss starting to hit him in full force. His entire body protests the movement as he lifts his hands back up to grab the hook—

“Oi, knock it out!”

This time, Evan’s grip slips before he can even try to dislodge himself from the crude torture stand, the surprise of hearing an unfamiliar voice enough to make him lose focus. Shit, did his assailant return to finish the job?

Instead of a masked hooligan, Evan makes out the frame of another man in working clothes, approaching him with an urgency in his step despite glaring daggers at Evan.

“Ya lookin’ ta get yerself killed with a stunt like ‘at?” the man spits, but before Evan has a chance to reply he’s reaching up and effortlessly lifting him off of the hook. Evan hisses from the sting of the rusty metal sliding through his injury, but it’s nothing compared to the elation he feels to be free from the awful contraption.

“Yer new, right?” the stranger grunts, seeming awfully hostile for someone who just saved his life, chewing on the butt of an unlit cigarette. “’M gonna patch ya up, just this once.”

Without waiting for his reply, the man pulls out a roll of bandages and starts applying them over the heavily bleeding gash in his shoulder. He’s a little rough but Evan doesn’t care, the uncomfortable treatment much preferable to dying.

There’s a million questions running through Evan’s mind. Where is his attacker? What do the criminals want? Why does the estate look different? Why was he unable to fight back against a man half his size?

“Who are you?” Evan asks instead.

His reluctant helper snorts, seeming amused by his question.

“Bleedin’ out from a meathook an’ _that’s_ what ya ask?” the man huffs, his mustache quirking up in a half-smile. “Ya can call me King.”

‘King’? Evan almost wants to snort in amusement and disbelief. This man he’s never seen before, in common working clothes and trespassing on Evan’s family’s property, would call himself something so arrogant?

“What an unfitting name,” Evan says.

Immediately, the bandages are tightened almost painfully around his shoulder.

“Wha’ was ‘at?” the man, “King”, grits out through clenched teeth, anger laced in his words.

Maybe Evan shouldn’t pick a fight with the man who just saved his life and who is the only thing currently stopping him from bleeding out.

“Do you know where the attacker is?” Evan asks instead, barely able to swallow his pride in exchange for living to see another day.

The bandages loosen just the tiniest bit as the man gets back to work.

“Dunno,” King spits, clearly not happy with the situation but not getting up to leave him for dead, either. “E’ll be back, though. They always come back.”

“Good,” Evan says, something dark bubbling up in his chest. _Revenge_. “This time he’s not taking me by surprise.”

“You _wot_ —” King exclaims in surprise, before sighing angrily. “Yer not takin’ ‘im!”

“I didn’t even get a chance to fight back before,” Evan argues. “He’s a runt, I can easily win, knife or not.”

“Mate, I’m tellin’ ya!” King argues. “Ya can’t win against none of these.”

“Then help me,” Evan challenges, looking over his shoulder at the man. He’s seen King’s type before, tense and angry but more than enough capable of holding his own in a fight. He looks to be in good shape, biceps flexing while he secures the last of the bandages around Evan’s shoulder.

“It don’t work ‘at way,” King says, anger finally giving way to something more pensive. “No matter how many o’ us, they always win.”

“Then I’m going alone,” Evan decides, breaking the eye contact to try to hide the sudden feeling of rejection.

“What the—!" King grunts in frustration. “Ya deaf or somethin’!? I _just_ told ya—”

“Thanks for the help,” Evan interrupts, brushing off the angry concerns and getting up on his feet. “Now get the fuck off my property.”

“Like _hell_ I’m lettin’ ya walk to yer death!” King yells, ignoring the command and coming to stand before Evan to scream right in his face. “Yer comin’ with me, end o’ story!”

“I don’t take orders,” Evan shoots right back, glaring at the man. There’s only one person on this Earth who has the ability to boss him around like a dog, and it sure as hell isn’t this obnoxious—and annoyingly attractive—loudmouth.

King lets out a sound that can only be described at unbridled rage at his uncooperativeness. The man clearly isn’t used to being challenged like this, most people probably content to cower under his demanding aura, the hostile stare and muscular arms shaking from barely contained fury not painting the most welcoming picture.

Luckily, Evan is not like most people, and the threat of a fist fight doesn’t phase him in the slightest.

“Fine,” King finally says and Evan fails to mask the surprise on his features.

“What?”

“I said fine,” King spits, growing annoyed again. “Just try ta in a few good punches on the wanker before ‘e kills us.”

“Try to have a little more faith in me,” Evan scoffs, offended that the man thinks he would lose two fights in a row.

It turns out, King had much more faith in Evan than he should have, because even between the two of them they barely get a punch each on Evan’s assailant before they’re both bleeding on the ground in agony and the perpetrator is still completely unscathed.

Evan’s fear of dying is partly replaced by annoyance when King just grumbles an obnoxious “told ya” while being carried to a meat hook. But it’s the man’s complete nonchalance over their impending doom, along with the muttered “see ya soon, mate” that throws Evan for a loop. Even as the rusty metal reopens the wound in his shoulder and has his screaming in agony, he can’t help but adapt some of King’s indifferent attitude, not fighting it when his vision fades to black

Eventually, the darkness gives way to light, as the dim orange glow of a fire emerges in Evan’s field of view. He’s never believed in the afterlife, but something is telling him to approach the light and his feet carry him forward unconsciously.

As he gets closer, he sees there’s people at the fire; men and women, young and old, dressed in clothing Evan has never seen before. Some are laughing and others are arguing, Evan not knowing whether he should make his presence known or not, standing in the shadows.

And then he sees the thief from the estate who lured him into the trap.

“Jake actually got scared of a _survivor?_ ” one of the women is laughing.

“I didn’t say that!” the thief protests.

“Now now, he could have been like… a really scary survivor!” a boy grins.

“G-guys…” a young woman’s eyes meet Evans, approaching the perimeter of the campfire, glaring daggers at the group.

“Holy shit! He’s huge!” someone gasps.

“See? You would’ve ran too!” the thief argues, pointing a finger at Evan.

Oh, he’s going to enjoy breaking that finger to teach the bastard a lesson—

“Oi!”

A voice Evan recognizes carries through the small campsite, snapping him out of his plot for vengeance. King is strolling up to join the commotion, ignoring the hesitant eyes from the rest of the group flitting between him and Evan.

“Glad’ta see ya back, newbie,” King says, offering Evan a smug smirk, before gesturing to the rest of the small campsite. “Welcome to hell.”

“It’s Evan,” Evan corrects, not dignifying the rest of his claims with a response. His day just keeps getting stranger by the minute, but at least there’s a familiar face proving he’s not among the enemy.

King extends a hand toward him, the smirk never leaving his face.

“David.”


End file.
